


Buckling Under Pressure

by robocryptid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas Eve, Christmas Presents, Fluff and Humor, Gift Exchange, M/M, Online Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robocryptid/pseuds/robocryptid
Summary: Hanzo thought he found the perfect gift. He thought wrong, and his ensuing descent into madness means Jesse's gift might get weird.Written for the Target Practice Holiday Exchange!





	Buckling Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thotzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thotzo/gifts).



> Written for [Thotzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thotzo/profile) for the Target Practice Holiday Exchange! Happy holidays!!
> 
> The original prompt I chose to work with was: "Holiday shopping is such bullshit, where the hell do I find this one stupid fucking thing for my boyfriend? Someone give me some Sake and fucking help."

This was it.

This was what Hanzo had anxiously awaited for nearly two months. He reached into the shipping package, pushed aside all the protective wrapping, then he slowly, reverently lifted the lid of the second box nestled within.

He had been careful to select exactly the right craftsman for the job, and he had chosen well. Nestled in fine velvet, treated as though it were expensive jewelry — that is, with all the care it deserved — sat the bespoke gift over which he'd agonized. It was made of solid gold, with smooth blue enamel carefully detailing each scale of the two intertwined dragons.

It was so lovely as to be a bit ridiculous. It was, after all, a belt buckle.

Realization hit him with all the speed and delicacy of a hypertrain: Jesse would never be able to _wear_ this. There was no appropriate occasion for such an accessory. It was too fine for everyday use, and much too over the top for anything more formal, even for Jesse.

Hanzo sighed and tucked the buckle back into its box. He couldn't return it, but neither did he wish for his very first Christmas with Jesse to be characterized by a lovely but useless trinket.

A week later, Hanzo opened another box, this time with more moderate hopes.

He'd won this one in an intense online bidding war. It was another belt buckle, another golden dragon. That was where its similarities to the first ended. The “gold” plating was already chipping, and even if it had been authentic, what had on the website appeared to be the ferocious snarl of a dragon on the hunt was, in person, more akin to the vacant smile worn by someone chasing a particularly euphoric high.

In short, it was fucking hideous.

He still had over a month until Christmas. He _would_ get this right.

 

* * *

 

After the third dragon belt buckle arrived, Hanzo began to lose what little faith in humanity he had left. This one had not been especially attractive on the website, but somehow the sake had convinced him that if the hideous gold one could look good online, perhaps one that looked awful online could look good in person.

The sake had lied.

He could at least respect that this buckle made no pretense at being gold or even particularly expensive. It was heavy, made of an ugly, dubious alloy and carved with an anatomically unfortunate depiction of what _may_ have been a person. In a bikini. Riding what _may_ have been a dragon.

It was frankly offensive to persons and dragons alike.

He thought very hard about throwing it into the Mediterranean; he only restrained himself by imagining the depths of Mei's disappointment if she found out he had littered.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo had no faith in humanity left to lose. He thought, a bit mournfully and with a quiet hiccup, that Jesse would be very sad if he knew. Jesse was the sort to believe, at least a little bit, in the magic of the holidays. They were meant to bring people together, to renew one’s faith in others, to encourage one to show extra kindness so that this faith might not be completely unfounded. Seated on the floor of his room and surrounded by the best humanity had to offer — at least in the limited sphere of oversized dragon belt buckles — Hanzo continued to doubt.

He drunkenly sorted his growing collection, first from largest to smallest, then from dullest to shiniest. “This is all very stupid,” he told nobody in particular. He sorted again, this time from tackiest to most tasteful. If he were being honest with himself, even the nicest one was a bit tacky. Ostentatious at best. Observing them all together, Hanzo grew uncertain that there was any such thing as a _tasteful_ dragon belt buckle.

Perhaps the solution was not to find a better dragon belt buckle, but to forgo the dragons altogether.

He pulled out his tablet again and began a new search.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks and two days before Christmas, Hanzo opened another package. He had given this one more thought and had reached the conclusion that Jesse might want something that represented himself rather than Hanzo. It was another belt buckle, this time a wide metal oval.

An elaborate border of laurel leaves surrounded the hammered metal interior. The leaves were not quite the brand of _showy_ that Jesse typically favored, but Hanzo figured the audacity of the main feature more than made up for it. A bold serif font proudly displayed a single word: BULLSHIT.

This was much more Jesse’s style, and Hanzo could easily picture him laughing at it. With some effort, he could even imagine Jesse wearing it. This one, however, was only slightly smaller than a dinner plate. He could indeed picture Jesse wearing it; he could also picture how much of Jesse’s waist it would hide, and how Jesse might have to hold the belt up with his hands as he walked. That seemed to defeat the entire purpose of a belt.

The BULLSHIT buckle was aptly named.

Hanzo finally broke down and asked his brother for help. Genji reacted exactly as Hanzo had expected: by howling with laughter at the first sight of Hanzo’s collection. In the grand tradition of younger siblings everywhere, Genji told everyone that he could, presumably in order to maximize Hanzo’s embarrassment. Hanzo thought that, too, was bullshit.

Everyone had something to say on the matter.

“It is not as if McCree has any taste himself,” said Satya over tea. “He won’t notice how ugly they are.” Hanzo usually liked Satya’s company, but he was not in the mood to face such blunt truths.

“He likes you! I’m sure he’ll like anything you get him,” said Mei. Hanzo also usually liked Mei’s company, but not when he found her optimism unhelpful, and not when she was outplaying him at mahjong. The two were not related, Hanzo was certain. “It’s your turn,” she added sweetly.

“I could melt them down into something actually useful,” said Torbjörn. Hanzo declined, but he was at least grateful that someone finally offered an actionable suggestion.

“Beep boop,” said the Bastion. Ganymede chirped in agreement.

“Maybe you’re just thinking about the gift all wrong,” said Lena, bent at the waist for her post-workout stretch. “Instead of looking for _one_ gift, give him the whole bunch. You’re adding to his collection. Let him do the curating.” It was the first suggestion that he couldn’t immediately dismiss. “He’s not gonna be happy with you putting too much pressure on yourself for his sake.” Hanzo resolved to at least think about it, and Lena beamed at him as she straightened.

When he mentioned the idea to Genji, it once again spiraled quickly out of control. Between Genji and his boyfriends, and Lena and her girlfriend, and Mei, who seemed to have guessed at the plan entirely independently, it was only a matter of time before Hanzo received the first outsourced addition to his collection.

Two and a half weeks before Christmas, Genji returned from a quick overnight mission with Jesse, and he somehow smuggled another belt buckle to Hanzo and left Jesse none the wiser. Hanzo was not sure where on his body Genji had stored it to keep it so well hidden, and he was equally unsure he wanted to ask.

Genji dropped the thing with a clatter onto Hanzo’s desk. He seemed proud enough of himself that it made Hanzo nervous. Hanzo slowly flipped it over and found that Genji had managed to one-up his BULLSHIT buckle. This one was too straightforward for botanical borders: it said, in large, simple letters, DICK.

Hanzo sighed. Twice.

“Don’t get huffy,” Genji said. “It describes both of you perfectly, and it is presumably something you like about him — no need to confirm or deny, thank you — and, most importantly, it’s hilarious. You know Jesse will agree with me on that one.”

Genji was infuriatingly correct; Jesse _would_ think it was hilarious. Hanzo opened a drawer at the desk, which had prior to current affairs remained mostly unused. It was now temporary home to several very stupid belt buckles. “Thank you. Put it with the rest,” he said, regretting already that he’d ever thought to ask his brother for help.

Over the following two weeks, Hanzo received a steady supply of belt buckles from their teammates. It seemed as though most had decided it was a funny game, although they didn’t reach a full consensus. Ana gifted him a lovely art nouveau piece inlaid with a scarab; it was ornate enough that it seemed insulting to put it on something as crude as a leather belt. It was certainly not Hanzo’s idea of a joke. Or Hanzo’s idea of Ana’s idea of a joke. Regardless, it was beautiful, and he kept that one wrapped carefully in paper.

The rest, though, ranged from inane to baffling. Hanzo received several that stuck closely to the cowboy theme: guns, horses, and playing cards. Emily sent one that was outfitted with a functioning butane lighter. Hanzo carefully set that one aside as a potential hazard. He wasn’t sure what one might wish to light on fire from crotch level, and he wouldn’t put it past Jesse to try to find out during his next _hold my beer_ moment.

Winston gave him a buckle shaped like a half-peeled banana, which made sense, really, but it did not make it any less terrible. Lúcio gave him one that was crudely carved with a series of industrial pipes and a masked worker. It was helpfully labeled at the top: “pipe fitter.” Hanzo was too tired to ask exactly what sort of joke that was meant to be.

With Christmas fast approaching, his new dilemma involved figuring out how to present all these belt buckles. In a single box, they were alarmingly heavy and made an unholy sound when several clanged together at once. He also did not care to scratch up the two that were actually quite nice.

Later he would blame Genji, who suggested the solution and brought him the sake. Sake and Genji together — and Jesse, sometimes, separately or in combination with either of the other two — inevitably led him to terrible ideas. But Genji wasn’t wrong to remind him he rather enjoyed wrapping gifts.

So it was that when Jesse entered Hanzo’s room on Christmas Eve, Hanzo greeted him surrounded by a veritable mountain of small packages, each buckle individually wrapped with care.

“Good God,” Jesse said, gesturing helplessly with his single, respectable, _normal_ looking box.

The contrast made Hanzo’s stomach flutter with sudden nerves as though he had done something very wrong. “I may have gotten carried away?” he asked, although it wasn’t meant to be a question at all.

“ _Why_?” Jesse asked him, then immediately flushed at whatever he saw on Hanzo’s face. “Nope. Let me try that again.” He crossed the room in a few short strides and kissed Hanzo, quick and chaste and barely even on the mouth. “Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” Hanzo answered, though he still felt incapable of actually moving.

“This looks like a lot of trouble, darlin’. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

“I had a plan. There were decisions that were made that may have gone in unforeseen directions. Also Genji? And sake. So much sake.” Hanzo realized how undignified it all sounded only as it left his mouth, and he felt his shoulders slump with embarrassment. “I don’t know. It makes much less sense now that you’re actually here to see it.”

“I gotta admit it’s a little overwhelming, but it’s real sweet too,” Jesse said, a soft smile spreading slowly across his face. “You did all this just for me?”

It helped loosen some of the tension. “Don’t get too excited. I fear what’s in the packages may be at least as… excessive… as their quantity.” Jesse’s smile only got bigger, and Hanzo asked, “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Oh no, I think you’re fuckin’ bonkers. I just like it a lot.”

“Oh,” Hanzo laughed. He couldn’t think of much else to say to that.

Neither, it seemed, could Jesse, who only responded with, “Yep,” and a grin that threatened to split his face in half.

After several long seconds, it occurred to Hanzo that they were simply standing there, staring at one another like absolute idiots, when there were gifts to be opened and kisses to be had. “Merry Christmas, Jesse,” he said before he pressed his lips gently against Jesse’s smiling mouth.

Although Hanzo had spent the last few weeks barely functional, anxious and stressed and feeling deeply inadequate to give Jesse all the things he deserved, he was reasonably confident in his competence at this part. Jesse seemed to agree, if the way he pressed himself closer was any indication. Hanzo would have been perfectly content to stay that way for the rest of the evening, or perhaps to have found a horizontal surface — or diagonal, he wouldn’t quibble — but Jesse finally broke the kiss with a quiet gasp.

“Gifts,” Jesse said, although it was not very convincing. He murmured it against Hanzo’s mouth, and Jesse’s metal hand remained curled insistently around the back of Hanzo’s neck.

“They can wait. Until tomorrow, even.”

Jesse made a frustrated sound that was half laugh, half sigh. “Mine can’t, actually,” he said, and he put more space between their mouths this time. “It’s kinda… time-sensitive.”

Hanzo sighed too. It would be a waste to set aside all his hard work at the last minute. He could kiss Jesse nearly any other time, however difficult that may have been to believe some days. “I suppose we can exchange our gifts.”

“A real tragedy, apparently,” Jesse teased.

“Pick one to start with,” Hanzo said, gesturing at the many small packages.

Jesse did as he was told, and they both moved to sit on the floor, unwilling to move too far from the pile of Jesse’s gifts. There was no way that it wouldn’t be an absolute pain otherwise.

Hanzo’s gift was a traditional Christmas cake. It seemed that on one of their nights together, Hanzo had gotten drunk enough to extol the virtues of his favorite dessert, and Jesse had held onto the memory for six long months. He had tracked down the very best bakery in the area to make it just for Hanzo. Whether or not Jesse understood its further significance, it was sweet and thoughtful and not half as impractical as a pile of decorative belt buckles. Hanzo did not miss that this particular memory was from before they’d begun dating, but he chose to keep it to himself, closely guarding the gentle, warm glow he could feel in his chest.

Jesse meanwhile opened the first of his packages. Naturally, it was the DICK buckle. He crowed with laughter while Hanzo groaned, all too certain that some time in the very near future, Genji was going to give him an obnoxiously knowing smirk and Hanzo could do absolutely nothing to prevent it. When Jesse recovered from his laughter, he opened another. This one was the slightly creepy cat head.

“Hanzo, I know two don’t make a pattern, but are these _all_ —”

“I refuse to answer questions about gifts you have not yet opened,” Hanzo said, then stuffed more cake into his mouth so that he couldn’t speak even if Jesse asked him to.

So the evening went: Hanzo quietly eating his cake while Jesse opened each individually wrapped belt buckle. Hanzo had questioned his sanity several times since the ordeal had begun, but he hadn’t quite considered how funny it would be to watch Jesse work very hard to appear uniquely interested in all of them, no matter how stupid. It clearly grew more difficult with each buckle, and he began to make strange choking noises. Hanzo recognized the sound as Jesse biting back his rising hysteria.

Once Jesse was surrounded in scraps of gift paper and his small hoard of belt buckles, struggling vainly not to appear relieved that it was over, Hanzo did suggest that he could trim the collection down without causing any offense. “I know it’s a large selection. It was meant for you to curate,” he said.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” Jesse smiled, and there was something ominous about it. “I’m keepin’ every last one of ’em. It’s a lot though, so I might need to store some here with you.”

“I’ve grown attached to them. I don’t mind that at all,” Hanzo lied through his teeth.

“In that case, I could leave the whole lot of them here if you want.” Jesse’s grin was downright vicious, but it grew softer when he added, “Except this one.” Jesse tapped a finger on the very first of them, the stupidly ostentatious golden dragon Hanzo’d had made just for him. “I think it’s my favorite. Next time we go to a fancy restaurant, I know what I’m wearing.”

Hanzo was struck with the strangest combination of regret and flattery and warm affection. He was tempted to make another joke, or to very seriously ask that Jesse never wear it in public, but the surge of fondness made it difficult to speak. “Wear what you like,” he said quietly. “It won’t change how I feel.”

Jesse’s face turned an especially violent and charming shade of red before he crossed the floor to kiss Hanzo. This time, the only good reason either could find to interrupt the kiss involved finally searching out that horizontal surface — ideally one that _wasn’t_ strewn with hazardous metal buckles.

**Author's Note:**

> Other than Hanzo's bespoke dragon buckle, every one of these belt buckles is a real thing that really exists in the world, and I hope your day is brighter for knowing that.
> 
> Many thanks to [mataglap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mataglap) for the beta, and to [CyberpunkDreamland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletprophesy/profile), [YourAverageJoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youraveragejoke), and mataglap again for the utterly cursed brainstorming.


End file.
